


Two Hearts

by erpprincess



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erpprincess/pseuds/erpprincess
Summary: OC Nakira is Otabek’s older sister, who has supported his skating career in their parents’ absence. She is studying composition at conservatory, with Otabek’s skating as her muse. When Otabek is injured, Yurio helps her complete her symphony.(Due to recent RL events, I can't swear by Wednesday updates, but I plan to update again soon!)





	1. Misunderstanding

“Check out the waitress over there,” she said, nudging her friend and pointing towards a high top near the dance floor. The club was packed despite being the middle of the week, but it wasn’t difficult for him to figure out which waitress she meant. This one was leagues above the rest - a strong yet slender figure in a black, strapless cocktail dress, high heeled boots, and leggings that glittered in the pulsing, rainbow colored lights. Her hair was long and free, the natural waves highlighted with deep crimson streaks, and the UV makeup made her coffee-colored eyes pop out of the dark like stars in the sky. She wore fingerless leather gloves over hands that effortlessly kept her tray balanced through the throng of dancers and patrons.

“Look at the way she moves, Yuri. You think she’s a dancer?” Mila absently curled a strand of bright red hair around her little finger as she watched the waitress weave through the crowd like a butterfly, smiling as she gathered empty glasses.

“Who cares? It’s bad enough I have to be here with _you_. The last thing I want to do is oogle strangers,” Yuri shot back, pulling the hood of his leopard print jacket closer around his face. He wasn’t allowed in the club by himself because he was underage, so he’d asked Mila to come along, hoping to lose her at some point. She was prone to distraction.

“We don’t have to be strangers.” The waitress had made her way over to the pair, leaning one elbow on the high top next to Mila, the other arm holding her tray expertly over her shoulder. “I’m Nakira. First time here?”

While Mila was engaged in conversation, no doubt asking silly questions just to keep the woman’s attention, Yuri’s own focus was drawn to her eyes - a kind of dark bronze he’d only seen once before.

A color he secretly adored, because of who owned them.

“...Otabek…” he unknowingly said aloud.

“Ah! You know our DJ? He’s the reason for the crowd tonight. It’s not often he gets to come back and drop some beats, but when he does it’s guaranteed to be a full house. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Nakira winked and spun, her steps in time with the music as she danced her way back to the bar.

“I like her,” Mila said with a grin.

“Of course you do. You like everybody.”

“Why did you say Otabek’s name?” Mila may be easily distracted, but she wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew Yuri had been looking at the new girl when he said it.

The younger boy huffed and put his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fists. _Damn Mila,_ he thought. _Can you_ not _be super annoying for one night?_

“Tell me, or I’m telling Yakov you’re not actually visiting your sick grandmother.”

“UGH, fine, you stupid--  Her eyes remind me of… his.” He turned away from her, feeling his cheeks start to fluster.

“Hmm, I suppose I can see that. They do sort of look alike. Hard to tell when she’s so friendly and Otabek never speaks to anyone.”

“He doesn’t talk to _you_ because you’re a boring old hag!”

She smiled and laughed. “Well, this boring old hag is tired of watching other people dance. I’m hitting the floor!”

Yuri groaned and rolled his eyes. He feigned boredom so Mila wouldn’t drag him along, but the truth was, he was really into the music. He couldn’t help his feet tapping along with the beat, and caught himself nodding with the music more than once. He mostly focused on Otabek. It was like seeing a completely new side of him. He was grinning, dancing, and pointing at people in the crowd as they waved their arms wildly under laser and strobe lights. As much time has he’d spent around Otabek at competitions and practice, he thought he’d had a pretty good idea of who he was. Otabek had told him about the club, saying it was one of the places he liked to go when he wasn’t on the road or in another city training. He’d mentioned a few friends he missed hanging out with, but it had seemed like a passing thought at the time. Yuri had decided, on a whim, to check out this mystery place now that the Grand Prix was over. He regretted it a little now. Otabek looked so relaxed and happy behind the turntables, his body gently swaying with one hand over his neon-lit headphones. It made Yuri feel like he was intruding.

The announcement was made that the club would be closing soon, and Mila finally sat back down at the table. She was out of breath and smiling widely. “I haven’t had this much fun in _years_ , Yuri! We should come here more often!”

“Yeah…” was all he could say.

The club cleared out and the two waited in the parking lot to greet Otabek before returning to their hotel. It was chilly, so they had the rental car running with the heat on. When the sign went dark and he finally left, Otabek wasn’t alone.

“Oh, it’s that girl!” Mila pointed - right across Yuri’s face - out the passenger window. “Nakira! You think they’re an item? Maybe you have a whole new kind of competiti--”

He slapped her arm down. “MILA!” She was right, though. The waitress was walking out with Otabek, and she -- his eyes widened -- she was wearing _his jacket._ They walked together the whole way to his motorcycle, and he handed her a helmet. “She--” She was _leaving with him!?_

Mila started to open the door. “Let’s catch them before they take off, Yuri!”

“NO. No… let’s just… I’m tired. Let’s just go back to the hotel.” He slid down in his seat, sulking, trying not to be seen as the motorcycle revved its engine. They took off, leaving Yuri and Mila to drive back to the hotel in silence.

 

*Ding!*

Yuri rolled over on his bed and grabbed his phone. Three new messages.

_Hope your grandmother is well. Please return to St. Petersburg as soon as you can. You have a lot of training to do. -Yakov_

“Thanks for the concern, old man.” Deleted.

_YURIO! LOOK AT WHAT WE FOUND IN HOKKAIDO! *image attached* -Viktor_

“Ugh, enough of your damn date photos, you stupid--” Deleted.

_Were you at the club last night? -Otabek_

Yuri stared at the message for five entire minutes, not knowing how to respond. _I can’t lie to him, but he’ll probably be mad that I was there._

_Yes. -Y_

He buried his face in his crinkly hotel pillow and wished he had never come to Almaty in the first place.

*Ding!*

_Why didn’t you say anything? I would have met you. -O_

_We waited, but you seemed… occupied. -Y_

Another few minutes of silent eternity.

*Ding!*

_Meet me for dinner? -O_

_Dinner?_ Yuri rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. _Shit, it’s already nearly 6pm._ He rolled out of bed and stuck one foot into Mila’s sleeping back.

“Oy, Mila.” He nudged her a couple times. “Get up. We’re going out for dinner.”

_Yeah. Give us an hour. -Y_

*Ding!*

It was the address to a restaurant downtown. When they arrived, they found Otabek was already there, along with Nakira. Whatever excitement Yuri had to finally get to see Otabek was instantly drowned with disdain.

“Yuri, I’d like you to meet my sister, Nakira,” he said, gesturing one hand towards her.

“We already met at the-- wait. Your _sister!?_ ”

“Oh my _god_ , I can _totally_ see the resemblance now!” Mila grabbed the girl by her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, eyeing her up and down before doing the same to Otabek.

“Naka, this is Yuri Plisetsky and Mila Babicheva. They’re part of the Russian figure skating team.”

“So you’re _that_ Yuri? Beka’s told me so much about you, but I didn’t recognize you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the Grand Prix. I was really hoping to cheer you guys on, but between work and school, I just couldn’t fly all the way to Barcelona. I saw your programs on TV, though. You were amazing!”

Yuri was still processing. _Sister? He never mentioned a sister. He told her about me? What did he say? What do I--_

“Let’s get a table. The pirozhkis here are great,” Otabek said, glancing at Yuri.

He grinned. _Maybe I shouldn’t have worried after all._


	2. Hot Mess

“Naka is studying composition at the Almaty Conservatory,” Otabek explained. They had finished dinner and were walking down one of the main streets, a few paces behind the girls. Mila seemed to adore Nakira - she hadn’t stopped talking the entire time.

“Composition?” Yuri asked.

“She writes music. Mostly orchestral, but she’s made some money doing songs for commercials and other advertisements, too. She’ll graduate this year once she finishes her final project.”

Yuri could see how proud he was of his sister. He wondered why he’d never mentioned her before. “You never talk about your family. They weird or something?”

Otabek stopped, his face shadowed from the street lamp by the awning of a closed bakery. “Weird… maybe. But I owe her everything.” He continued walking, head inclined as if he could see the stars drowned out by the bright lights of the city. “Our parents wanted different paths for us. Safe paths. They pushed us to become doctors or businessmen. When I started skating, I was young. They never forbid me from practicing, but they never encouraged me, either. My mother assumed it was a hobby, that I would eventually become bored and move on. My father was embarrassed. When Naka told them she wanted to study music, they laughed. She had always excelled in her studies, and our parents told her she was going to medical school. She refused.

“When I was thirteen, I decided I was going to make skating my career. I told my parents how important it was to me, how dedicated I’d become, but they wouldn’t listen. We fought. They refused to support my decision, and forbade me from training. Naka and I left that night.”

“Otabek… I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. We stayed in a hotel that night. At first, I didn’t believe we’d actually run away. It was a relief, even if for a night.  The next day, she took us to our first apartment. It wasn’t in a great part of town, and it was only a one room studio. The plumbing was sluggish and one of the lights often flickered. It was… less than ideal, but it was ours, and over time she made it feel more like home than my parents’ house ever did. That was the first time I remember crying.”

Yuri didn’t know what to say. He had only been joking, but this was insane! How could anyone not have seen how amazing his skating is? How could anyone not support him? How could his own parents not believe in his dream? He was angry enough to punch something, but also surprisingly sad, which just made him even more frustrated.

“I stood there in there in the doorway next to my sister, who’d sacrificed her own comfort and safety for my sake, and I couldn’t help it. I’ll never forget what she said to me that night.”

Yuri turned to look at his friend, his copper eyes reflecting the street lights as they passed under them. He heard the girls giggling about something ahead of them, but it only vaguely registered so focused he was on Otabek.

“She put her arm around my trembling shoulders and said, ‘This is the biggest step forward we’ve ever taken, and we’re taking it together.’ She didn’t try to shift fault, she didn’t spout some pretty, inspiring saying about the future, but it told me everything.”

They continued to walk towards the hotel in silence. Yuri felt like he should say something, but what? What could he possibly tell him when his own skating career had always been not only encouraged, but demanded of him? He realized he’d had more support than most of his competitors, and he’d always taken it for granted. All he could do was slip his hand out of his own jacket pocket and into Otabek’s. His face was turned away so the other boy couldn’t see his face flush, but a gentle squeeze in return told him he’d made the right move.

They walked the rest of the way without further conversation, simply enjoying the company of the other and of the chattering women ahead of them. Occasionally Nakira would point out some store or landmark and Mila would “ooh” and “ahh” on cue. Whether she was truly interested in sightseeing or simply Nakira’s attention, Yuri didn’t know. He didn’t care, really.  He was content to spend his last night in Almaty walking with his friend.

 

Otabek yawned as he settled onto the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. It wasn’t terribly late, and they both had work at the club tomorrow night, so that meant sleeping in a little later than usual. He’d changed into a Glitch Mob t-shirt and a pair of brown sweatpants, dug the television remote out from between the cushions and flipped it on.

Nakira decided it was a hot chocolate kind of evening, so she pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard, filled the kettle and put it on the stove to heat. As it did, she changed into her own loungewear: a pair of grey yoga pants and a purple hoodie that said “Ice Princess” below a pair of figure skates with rhinestones for the blades. She made their drinks and joined Otabek on the couch, snuggling next to him. He pulled the flannel blanket off the back of the sofa and threw it over their laps while his sister held the mugs up high.

“What are we watching?” she asked, even though he knew she’d be asleep before long. She never could stay awake for long when hot cocoa was involved.

“Infomercials, news, or old Godzilla movies. Take your pick.”

They turned to each other with a questioning look, but after no more than a second said simultaneously, “Godzilla.”

By the time the Japanese military had begun fighting the monster, Nakira had finished her cocoa; before it was defeated, she was asleep. When the movie finished he turned the television off, dropped the remote on the floor, and did his best to gently maneuver his legs up onto the couch. He settled for one up and one down, pulled the blanket up over Nakira’s shoulders, and fell asleep to her soft snoring vibrating against his chest as he'd done countless times over the past five years.

 

* _brrrt-brrrt*_

Otabek, ever the light sleeper, woke to his cell phone vibrating on the coffee table. Gingerly, he reached over and grabbed it, careful not to wake the sleeping mess still on the couch with him.

_Heading to the airport. Had fun last night. (smiling cat emoji) -Yuri_

He smiled. As best as he could with one hand, he replied.

_Glad. Me 2. -Otabek_

* _brrrt-brrrt*_

_Everything OK? You never abbreviate. -Y_

Yuri was right. Otabek generally disliked shorthand in texting, but his current situation pretty much demanded it. But how to explain that to Yuri?

He grinned. _She’s going to murder me for this,_ he thought, holding his phone out and switching to camera mode.

 

*Ding!*

_(laughing bear emoji) *image attached* -O_

Yuri opened the attachment and snorted. He burst out laughing at the tangled mess of brown and red hair surrounding an open-mouthed, slightly drooling face.  At the very top of the frame was Otabek, half apologetic, half trying to suppress his own laughter lest he wake the beast.


	3. Tough Break

The Altin siblings spent the next few weeks as they often did - at the ice rink, Otabek training and Nakira observing, making notes. She’d always felt oddly at peace here, despite the hard seats and chilly air. She was sitting cross-legged, using her knees to support the landscape style music composition notebook. It was awkwardly large for most people, but Nakira had been using such materials for years now. It was the easiest way for her to compose - penciling in the music as she saw her brother skating it; whereas most musicians sat with pencil and paper at a piano.

But then again, the two of them had always been rather unconventional.

Today seemed like any other to the additional skaters and coaches on the ice, but Nakira was excited. _It’s really coming together,_ she thought as she flipped to a new page. _It’s really taking shape, more so than I ever imagined._ Otabek stepped off the ice and slipped on his  blade guards before coming over and sitting next to her. She dug his water bottle out of his bag and handed it to him. He glanced at her notebook as she did, eyes drifting over the lines of music staves, hearing the melody in his head.

“Looks good,” he commented, nodding towards her work.

“Good? Beka, this is fantastic. It’s not just the melody I see this time,” she began flipping back through the last few pages of ledger, showing him not only melody, but harmony, bass, and vocals. “This is by far the best you’ve done!”

“We,” he corrected, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead. “The best _we’ve_ done.”

***

Nakira was at the conservatory when she got the call.

She felt her phone vibrating in the side pocket of her backpack, and since the professer of this particular class didn’t pay much attention to what his students were doing while he lectured, she reached around and grabbed it.  It wasn’t a number she recognized, so she dismissed it and set it down next to her textbook.  After a minute, it rang again, the same number on the caller ID.

_I guess it’s important. Could be someone from work._ She excused herself and answered the call in the hallway.

“Ms. Altin?” She didn’t recognize the voice.

“This is she.”

“Are you the emergency contact for Otabek Altin?”

  
Her voice caught in her throat.  “I-I am.”

“This is Dr. Nitsky from Almaty General Hospital. Your brother has been in an accident. He’s okay, but he’ll require surgery. We need you to come sign some release papers.”

_An accident?  Surgery!? Take a deep breath, Naka. The doctor said he was okay. Keep it together._ “Of course,” she answered, shakily. “I’ll be right there.”  

“Thank you. Just tell the nurse I’m expecting you.” *click*

Nakira leaned back against the wall and nearly dropped her phone. _Even if he’s okay, surgery will keep him from training for months. He’ll miss the next series for sure, probably the Grand Prix Final this year as well. What would that mean for his career? Skaters had taken time off before, it wasn’t unheard of. Would be be able to make a return?_ She mentally checked herself. _First things first. He’s hurt, and he needs you._ She took another deep breath and used the end of her sleeve to wipe the tears from her eyes before heading back into the classroom to gather her things.

***

After explaining for the third time that she was, indeed, his official next-of-kin and legal guardian, Nakira was given the release of information regarding the accident and her brother’s condition. She tucked it under her arm and went into Otabek’s room, the sterile smell of Clorox and Febreeze assaulting her. Thankfully the other bed was empty.

“Beka?” She dumped her coat and backpack on the tiny guest sofa and pulled the doctor’s stool over to his bed. She was relieved to find him awake. He looked terrible - his hair was disheveled, he had a number of bandaged scrapes and an equal number of bruises. His usual energy, albeit calm and reserved, was depleted.

“Hey, sis. Sorry to make you come. Were you in cla--”

She cut him off. “You idiot! Of _course_ I would come!” She held is hand, being careful not to disrupt the IV in his arm. “What happened?”

“I was on my way to the rink and got hit by one of those little delivery cars. Kid wasn’t even looking and blew through a red light. The impact wasn’t that bad, but my bike landed on my leg. The doctor said I have a few fractures.” He tried to sit up, but the sling holding his leg in the air made it difficult. Nakira assisted as best she could, but her brother was quite heavy. “God, I feel pathetic. Don’t… don’t tell Yura.”

“What? Why not?” She hadn’t yet thought to inform the other skater about what happened, but he’d surely be worried. She knew they spoke often, and had suspicions it was a bit more than a friendship, though their distance and training schedules made it hard for them to visit each other.

“He has more important things to worry about. Winning gold at the Grand Prix and Viktor’s return to competitive skating put a lot of pressure on him. He can’t afford to be distracted.” Otabek ran a hand back through his hair, sighing as he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Besides, I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“You’ll have to tell him at some point. You guys talk all the time. If you’re not skating, he’ll know something’s up.” Now that Nakira’s nerves had settled somewhat, she started flipping through the stack of documents the doctor had given her. “According to this, you’ll be in a cast for two weeks after they set your broken bone, and you’re not to put any weight on it for at least another four. Physical therapy will add eight weeks after that.” She put the papers back in order and turned to her brother, who was still laying back with an obvious look of pain on his face. “Beka, you’ll be off the ice for at _least_ three months, and even then you’ll have to take it easy.”

“That puts me out of the prelims, too. So much for challenging Yura’s gold this season.” He feigned a smile, but it she knew it wasn’t genuine. Not wanting to let go of Nakira’s hand, he laid his other arm over his face. “I can’t believe this…”

She squeezed his hand and tried to sound optimistic. “We’ll get through this. We’ve always taken care of each other and it’s not going to stop now. You’ll have to take this season to recover, but your career is far from over.”

  
“Naka, I’m sorry. I’m worried about how--”

“We’ll find the right time and the right way to tell Yuri. He’ll be worried, but I’m sure he’ll want you to focus on getting better. Until then, I’ll be here.” She couldn’t help the tears for the second time today. She knew her brother was strong, both physically and willfully, but the tears he tried to hide now were proof that this accident had crushed more than just his leg.


	4. Stay Focused

_“And there you have it, folks! The lots have been drawn for the Grand Prix preliminaries, so be sure to tune in right here to see your favorite skaters square off for their shot at the podium in Barcelona!”_

“Looks like Yuri will be heading to Beiji--” Nakira had began.

* _brrrt-brrrt*_

Otabek already had his phone in hand, expecting the call when Yuri didn’t see his name listed as a competitor in any of the preliminary arenas. He hadn’t been avoiding the Russian skater, but he worried what his friend’s reaction would be.

“Hello, Yura.”

_“Otabek! Where’s your prelim? I can’t believe I f*cking missed it.”_

“Yura… I’m not skating.”

Silence.

_“Haha, good one. For real, though, where are you headed?”_

“I’m serious.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Yuri. I didn’t know how to tell you. A few weeks ago I was in a bike accident. I had to have surgery on my leg. I can’t skate this season.” Otabek bit his lower lip in fear of what response he’d receive. It wouldn’t be unlike Yuri to throw his phone in anger or hang up on him for feeling betrayed. He felt either would be justified, really. He’d intentionally kept his injuries from his friend. Nakira, still beside him on the sofa, slipped a reassuring hand into her brother’s.

The silence somehow scared him even more.

Finally, _“Are you okay?”_

That was not the answer he was expecting, but he couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be fine. It wasn’t that serious. I’m still on crutches, but the physical therapy is going well. The doctor believes I’ll be back to normal by the Grand Prix.”

 _“Then why didn’t you tell me!? God, Beka, I thought we were friends! How could you keep something serious from me!?”_ Then, quieter, _“No, he’s out for the season. Accident. Yeah, Mila, he’s fine. He-- Damn it Viktor, go away!”_ There was some rustling on the other end of the line. Otabek could only imagine what kind of harassment Yuri was getting from the rest of the Russian team on his behalf. He heard some Russian swear words, some exasperated growling, and then finally the noise faded.

“I know you’re mad, Yura, but I didn’t want to worry you. You should focus on--”

 _“Hell yes, I’m mad! You kept me in the dark! Everyone started asking_ me _when your name wasn’t announced, and I didn’t even know that my own boyfriend had been in a motorcycle accident!! F*ck, man!”_

He allowed Yuri his rant. His friend deserved that much. He also wondered how long it would take the other boy to realize he’d called Otabek his boyfriend. It was no secret that they’d become close since the last Grand Prix Final, and neither of them really cared about the labels of “dating,” “boyfriend,” “couple,” or the like, but hearing Yuri say it despite - no, especially because of - his current mood relaxed Otabek’s concern about this ruining their relationship immensely.

“Your boyfriend?” Otabek teased. “Is there someone else I should know about?”

Nakira, realizing the Plisetsky storm was subsiding and seeing her brother’s silly grin, knew the two would be okay. Deciding to give the two some privacy, she got up, gave a quick kiss to her little brother’s forehead while she ruffled his hair, and went to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

 _“S-shut up.”_ Yuri was worked up in a different way now, stammering as his anger evaporated. Otabek chuckled softly. _“I’m still mad at you.”_ _  
_ “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m really okay, though. And honestly…” He glanced towards the kitchen to make sure his sister couldn’t hear him. “...I’m more worried about Naka.”

_“Haah? Did she get hurt, too? Damn it, I didn’t even--”_

“No, no,” he cut Yuri off before he got too bent out of shape again.  “She wasn’t with me when it happened, but she’s been missing a lot of classes to pick up the slack while I recover. That and…” he trailed off, considering whether or not to dump yet another one of his problems on the skater.

_“And what? Beka, will you just f*cking tell me what’s wrong?”_

Otabek sighed. “She’s set to graduate this Fall when her final project is complete.”

_“Okay? And?”_

“Her way of composing is… unique. She doesn’t hear a song in her head and then put it to paper. She sees music in the way people move, and her final project was based on a routine I was choreographing for this season’s free skate.”

_“And you won’t be back on the ice before graduation.”_

“Exactly. I messed up, Yuri. And I’m not the only one paying for it.”

 

Yuri skated in slow loops around the St. Petersburg ice rink. He was getting more and more frustrated thinking about what he could do to help his friend. _My… boyfriend?_ _I really said that, didn’t I? Damn._ He sped up and did a few triples and spins, the blades of his skates granting the familiar push and pull of the ice beneath him. He pushed himself harder, landing quad combos and jump spins until his lungs were numb. _Beka is strong and pretty independent. He doesn’t need my help. He just wants me to keep my focus on skating._

He resumed a slow circuit of the rink, stretching his muscles as a cool-down on the ice to avoid the whirlwind of questions and comments Mila undoubtedly had bottled up on the sideline for even just a few minutes longer.  _Still, I want to do something._


	5. Impulse

Yuri’s phone buzzed in his pocket.  _ Probably Yakov, wondering why I’m not at practice. _ He fished it out and, sure enough, it was his coach. He knew if he answered it would be near-incomprehensible Russian yelling, so he silenced the ringer and dumped it back into his jacket pocket. 

He leaned back against the cool brick of the wall where he was waiting.  _ This was a stupid idea. Yakov’s mad, Lilia’s mad, I’m sure Viktor and Milla are mad… Beka will probably be angry with me, too. I should probably just-- _

His thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of metal hinges as the employee entrance door swung open. A figure in a black leather jacket came out a few paces, stopped, and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. For a moment, Yuri was afraid he would get kicked off the property - he wasn’t old enough to be here anyway, and he was lurking at the back entrance. He relaxed a bit when the tiny flame lit up curly brown and red locks.

“Nakira?” She was exactly who Yuri was hoping to see, assuming Otabek was still not working, but he was nervous about showing up unannounced at the club...again.

“Jesus tapdancing Christ!” Nakira exclaimed, fumbling both the lighter and the cigarette. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Calm down, it’s just me, Yuri.” He dug his phone out of his pocket again and used it as a flashlight to find Nakira’s lighter in the shadowed alley. He tossed it back to her, still feeling too awkward to make eye contact. “I came to see Beka. I tried to focus on skating, but I can’t and it’s pissing me off. I haven’t seen him since the last time I came to Almaty and I know he doesn’t want me here, but I can’t just sit around, and once I landed I realized I didn’t even know where you guys lived, so I came here even though--”

“Yuri,” Nakira interrupted. The younger boy was startled when she stepped over and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re here.” Yuri had no idea what to do - his first reaction was to pull away, but she was warm and smelled like a mixture of perfume, smoke, and sweat. He felt her grip his jacket tightly as she took a breath, holding it a few seconds before exhaling. She stepped back and shook her head, as if to shake away whatever thoughts had been running through her mind.

“Come inside. Have you eaten?” She started back towards the door, pulling Yuri with her by the arm.

“I--No, but what about your cigarette?”

“Oh.” She winced. “It’s all right. Beka would murder me if he knew I was smoking anyway. I’ve just been so stressed lately that… well, nevermind.” She smiled, but Yuri could tell it wasn’t completely genuine. Regardless, he followed her inside.

 

The club was just as loud as he remembered, but the crowd was a bit thinner. She led Yuri through the kitchen to the bar, giving him the seat closest to the wall where he wouldn’t be bothered. She said something to the bartender, grabbed a serving tray, and went back to her regular server duties. 

The bartender introduced himself as Stefan and handed him a small menu. “Nakira says you’re a friend of hers.”

“Uh, yeah I guess.” The way Stefan was staring was irritating him. “You got a problem with that?”

Stefan chuckled. “Not if she doesn’t. What’ll you have?”

Yuri ordered some food and a soda and stayed at the bar until closing. Luckily with his hood up and eyes on his phone, no one recognized him or made a fuss about “some kid in the club.” After the patrons were gone, he offered to help Nakira clean up.

“Sure! Grab that sponge. You can wipe down tables after I clear them.” He did so and they set about their task. She began stacking dishes while Yuri picked at the corners of the sponge. “You’re by yourself this time?” 

“Yeah. It was kind of on a whim. I was getting angry not being able to do anything. I was missing jumps and forgetting steps in practice and before I knew it I had booked a flight here.” Yuri circled the high top table, scrubbing out his frustrations.

She paused. “‘Do anything’? What do you mean?” She moved to the next table.

“Shit, I don’t know. Like, I know he’s a strong guy and the doctor said he’d recover, but what if he doesn’t go back to skating? What if he can’t? Skating was our *thing* and what if he doesn’t want me around now?” Yuri seemed to be talking more to himself than his host at this point, but she didn’t interrupt. The way his words were spilling out made her think the boy didn’t have many opportunities to open up to someone. “I just feel so useless being so far away when he’s so worried about his career and your project.”

“My--  He’s what?” Nakira had been careful not to bring up her final project around her brother in fear that he would try to rush his recovery and potentially injure himself all over again. She already knew the lack of skating practice and inability to ride his bike or even DJ at the club was wearing on him. 

“What?  Shit.” Yuri threw the sponge at the table where it hit with a soapy splat before sliding off and under the next table. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, leaning his elbows on the high-top and grabbing his hair in frustration. “He told me about your project. Your music. I don’t really understand how you do it, but I guess it’s complicated enough that he’s worried you won’t finish in time to graduate.”

“He… shouldn’t be worried about me. I’ll come up with something. He’s given me a lot to work with already, even if it is incomplete.” She took her tray back to the kitchen to empty the dishes she’d collected. 

They finished cleaning up in relative silence. The short car ride back to her apartment was awkward, but not overly so. It was only a few hours before dawn, so Nakira was careful to be as quiet as she could as she unlocked the door and welcomed Yuri inside. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” she whispered, smiling. “I’ll get you a pillow and an extra blanket. The couch doesn’t fold out, but it’s damn comfortable as it is.” She returned a few minutes later with a comforter, pillow, and a small drinking glass with a toothbrush wrapped in plastic inside. “One of the benefits of travel: hotel extras. In case you need it.”

“Oh… thanks.” Yuri, despite traveling multiple times a year, hadn’t thought to bring anything more than the duffel bag he always took to the rink. 

“Are you okay?” Nakira didn’t know him all that well, but she knew enough to understand that he wasn’t his usual self. 

“I’m just tired,” he replied curtly.  _ Of course I’m not okay. I just hopped a plane to another country chasing down someone without knowing how to find them...again.  _ He threw the pillow on one end and collapsed onto the sofa, throwing the blanket unceremoniously over himself. 

“Okay, well… good night then.” She paused at her bedroom door for a moment, wondering about the small, blond mess of nerves in her living room.  _ Beka will either be excited or furious tomorrow, but at least he’ll be surprised. _


End file.
